Latest Forum Posts:


Warning Order

A soldier searches for intimacy on the eve of battle.
“Are you all right, mate?” It hurt to talk through the burning throb of my lips and cheek. I could already feel my left eye swelling shut as I pinched the bridge of my nose through the gauze to try and stop the bleeding.

“Yeah,” Fang replied quietly. “I think it’s broken.”

The blackhat medic crouched in front of him on the road, silently strapping his arm tightly to his chest to immobilise it. She hadn’t bothered trying to wrestle him out of his black fire suit after the less than stoic performance he gave getting his webbing off. That would be taken care of at the hospital, she knew.

She was pretty, in a plain sort of way. Her flawless skin was pale, almost pink, and contrasted heavily with her navy blue beret. Tantalisingly, her lips twitched with concentration as she worked on Fang.

Her piercing grey eyes locked with mine. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Fang coughed a laugh, delighted that I’d been caught staring. But poetic justice intervened, causing him to wince in pain as his arm moved with the bounce of his chest.

I smiled to myself under the veil of bloody gauze across my face, but kept my gaze firmly on the blackhat. She narrowed her eyes at me, her brow creasing slightly. Realising I wasn’t going to look away, she poked her tongue out, the pink flesh glistening seductively in the sunlight. I was captivated by the shine of the saliva left on her lips when she pulled her tongue back in. It just made me want to stare more.

She was suddenly distracted by the crackle of uncontrolled gunfire and the muffled pops of flashbangs going off in the two storey building behind us.

It was absolute chaos!

The 3 Squadron commander had well and truly lost his shit, and was screaming into his radio on the other side of the road. Operators in black body armour and blackhat support staff in khaki camouflage were running around trying to get a handle on the situation. It was a lost cause.

Fang and I exchanged a knowing look. We sat there sheepishly at the medic’s station in the middle of the road, behind the cordon, hoping nobody would notice us. It had been our failed covert entry a few minutes earlier that had kicked off this whole gang fuck.

“There’s your man.” I recognised the polished private school accent of the Signals Major. It was not unlike my own.

“Which one?” the working class voice replied. “The one pissing blood, or the one with the arm?”

The Major sighed as the two men in khaki strode up and came to a standstill above us. “The bleeder.”

“G’day, Boss,” I chirped up at him from the road, flattering him with the address usually reserved for beret-qualified officers.

He bristled, chuffed with my greeting. “As I was saying, we’ve just got him back from the Forward Air Controller Instructor’s course with the US Air Force.”

“So what are you wasting him here for?” frowned the other bloke, an operator in sunglasses and a sandy beret.

“Scheduling, as always,” replied the Major. “My blokes are scattered from asshole to breakfast. I can’t get a worthwhile group together until next month.”

A siren went off behind us, bringing an end to the counter terrorism exercise, and the chaos. The tension in the air immediately dissipated as the gathered crowd relaxed with a collective sigh of relief.

The operator looked around at the activity behind us, then back down at Fang and I. “Looks like you blokes made a fucking mess of this then.” Then turning back to the Major, “And this is your best chook?”

The murderous rage of the screaming behind me caught my attention before I could hear the Major’s reply. “Where the fuck is he?!”

I looked over my shoulder and saw Brill charging out of the kill house about thirty metres away. He was almost pin-wheeling as he shoved blokes aside on his way towards us. His face was a seething shade of red, making him look like a beetroot with arms.

“You!” Brill’s stubby, gloved finger drew a bead right between my eyes. “You little fucking shit! I’m going to fucking kill you!”

I threw the gauze to the ground and shot up onto my feet. “Don’t fucking start, cunt. You’re going to hurt yourself,” I called back in an even tone, which only enraged him further. Then again, I suppose the threat didn’t help.

“What the fuck did you just say to me? This is my house, you little prick.” Brill’s arm flailed wildly behind him, gesturing at the kill house. “You show some fucking respect!”

“Your house?! Fuck you, you Neanderthal!” I roared back. Then pointing down at Fang, still sitting in a black, huddled ball on the road, “You broke his fucking arm!”

Brill’s rage found new heights, if that was at all possible, and he broke into a trot on his way towards me. His fingers balled into fists as he closed to within about fifteen metres.

The impending threat triggered my muscle memory, and my world became a silent slow motion as my tunnel vision focussed in on Brill’s contorted face. I drew my pistol, the zip of the steel against the holster and the click of the safety switch the only sounds I heard. My left hand wrapped around my right, and I stepped into the target. The foresight sharpened against the blur of his forehead. I exhaled. And fired, twice.

Pop! Pop!

Brill stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping back as the two paint-filled wax training rounds struck him in the forehead. He threw his hands to his face and buckled at the knees, splashing to the road like liquid.

Everyone erupted into raucous laughter, from the Squadron Commander down. Some of the blokes even started applauding.

The blackhat medic jogged over to Brill to check he was okay, but she had to stop halfway over to gain control of her giggling. She was hunched over, with her hands resting on her knees, searching for a straight face. She found it. Then her face split into a broad grin when she looked back at me.

Brill was flat on his back, with his knees up. He was pressing his palms to his forehead and groaning softly in response to her asking if he was all right.

I turned to see the operator killing himself laughing, steadying himself on the officer beside him. The Signals Major though, was ashen white, no doubt panicked about one of his men committing the cardinal sin of discharging a weapon outside a firing range.

“Oh, that was fucking brilliant,” the operator cried, wiping tears from his eyes. He introduced himself as one of the 1 Squadron troop sergeants, and when he finally regained his composure, he said seriously, “We’ve been issued a warning order. And you’re with me.”

That was it, no fucking around.

“Make sure this gets signed in, mate,” I said to Fang as I took off my black, counter terrorism webbing, dropping my weapons and training ammunition on the road next to him. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Mate,” Fang barked in his boofy footballer voice. “Get fucked.”

I gave him a smile, and the finger, as I followed the Troop Sergeant to the waiting Landrover. We took off for the 1 Squadron area of the Barracks, rumbling past the numerous, nondescript buildings and eucalypts lining the road along the way.

“What was all that about?” the Troop Sargent asked after a minute or two of silence.

“Just Brill getting carried away again.” I explained how he had kicked the shit out of Fang and I when we had tried to gain entry into the kill house. Then I admitted, “I may have got a few rounds in under his face mask during the scuffle.”

“Good one,” he laughed. We waited at an intersection for a pair of canvas-topped Unimog trucks to go by. “So you’re the one that saved the day during the Sydney Olympics last year?”

“Right place, right time,” I dismissed, hoping the flush in my face would disappear. Then changing the subject, “What’s the job?”

“Gus is taking a small team into Afghanistan tomorrow,” he began. “We’ve got to try and find an American commander over there who’ll give us an area of operations. Then we call in the rest of the Squadron and get stuck in.”

“You’re joking?” I balked. “You mean we haven’t been officially requested?”

“Yeah, we have to drum up our own business on this one. Gus spent the last week running around the Pentagon, trying to get us in on the action. Apparently he got so desperate, he sent our last chook into every briefing, doing Steve Irwin impressions.” He smiled in response to my expression and nodded. “I know, but hey, whatever works. They ate it up. We’ve already got an in with one of their generals on site.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “How’s your Crocodile Hunter?”

“Crikey!” I breathed, eliciting a frown, and shrugging myself. “So what happened to your last chook?”

“Fast roping accident this morning,” he explained as he wrestled the Landrover around a corner. “Shattered both his legs up to the hips.”

I sucked in a sympathetic wince through my teeth.

“Yeah,” the Troop Sergeant laughed. “What a dickhead!”

We pulled up outside the 1 Squadron staging area and headed inside. Much the same as ours, it was a huge, cavernous warehouse, with a gently arching, hangar-like roof. A row of Unimogs were parked up on the right, with pallets of equipment and a dozen or so blackhats buzzing around on the left. And over by the back wall, a clutch of nine operators, complete with sandy berets, stood by a door I figured led to their briefing room.

“Would you get a load of this bruised turd,” one of the blokes called out as we approached them.

“Jesus,” cried another, this one with a shock of dark red hair. “Looks like he copped a flogging with the ugly stick.”

“Okay, listen up, you blokes.” The Troop Sergeant interrupted as we came up on the group. “This is the new chook. He’ll be heading out with us tomorrow.”

I was greeted by nothing but poker faces and piercing, uncompromising stares. I already felt out of place. I was at least ten years younger than the other blokes standing around, and a good six inches taller. The fact that I was decked out in my black counter terrorism fire suit, while the rest of them were in their khaki disruptive pattern combat uniforms only made it worse. And they were giving me the typical Regiment welcome.

Red was first with the ass sniffing. “Where are you from?”

“North Sydney,” I replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“No, dickhead,” Bruised Turd chimed in. “Which Troop have you been working with? You’re obviously with Three Squadron.”

I knew what Red meant of course, but the sizing up went both ways. “Water Troop,” I snorted.

“For fuck sake,” one of them sighed, while the rest of them rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

“Sorry, should have said. We’re Air Troop,” The Troop Sergeant explained.

“Poofters, huh?” I grinned. “Could be worse. At least I didn’t end up with the fatties from Vehicle Mounted.”

“Are you air qualified, Waterboy?” growled the more grizzled of the group, unimpressed with my taunt. He was about forty, and had a face like a cat’s ass.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been high altitude, but I know enough not to land on my heels when I’m jumping out of a helicopter, if that’s what you're asking?”

Cat’s Ass pursed his lips tighter by way of reply. I couldn’t tell if that was good or not. Either way, I had no time to ponder it.

The rest of the day was spent in briefings and organising equipment. As the signaller, I was responsible for getting all the communications gear for the team sorted. While it felt good to focus on my own task and avoid the microscopic scrutiny of my new patrol, it was just something else that kept me on the outer.

With the assistance of a few blackhat signallers, I pored over topographical maps of southern Afghanistan, and studied weather charts. It was the vernal equinox, I knew, or the autumnal in the northern hemisphere. And I needed to figure out what communications equipment would function best in the atmospheric conditions of the looming, Afghan winter.

By the time I finished requisitioning the equipment we needed from the quartermaster And made my way back to the warehouse, most of the blokes had already cleared out. Only Cat’s Ass and the Troop Sergeant remained, chatting by the back of one of the Unimogs.

“Comms gear sorted?” The Troop Sergeant kept his attention on the clipboard in his hands.

I handed over the paperwork with a nod, then ran him through the list of equipment I had arranged. He slid it in behind a bundle of other papers he had attached to his clipboard, listening to my account, rather than checking what was written down.

“Good one,” he nodded. “That’s it. Meet back here tomorrow at zero nine hundred. We’ll do one last check of the gear, then head out to Pearce. The Hercules lifts off at thirteen thirty.

“You heard the Boss. If this thing goes the way we want it, we’ll be gone at least six months. Make sure you make the most of it tonight. Fill your boots, yeah?”

I shot him a quick grin, then made eye contact with Cat’s Ass. My smile faded under his withering scowl. I had definitely had my fill of fuckwitts that day, but I held his gaze a second or two longer than I wanted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

One of the blackhats drove me around to the 3 Squadron staging area. The locker room was deserted, but the blokes had left my stuff on one of the benches. My black helmet and goggles, and webbing, now empty of weapons and ammunition, sat in a neat pile. My respirator wasn’t there, but it had been broken when Brill kicked me in the face. They had also printed off a photo of the whole Troop, with all of them mooning the camera, and stuck it to my locker.

I snorted the odd laugh as I read the messages they had each scrawled on the photo. I had been with these blokes in the Squadron for three years, and Fang for five. We had been best mates from the moment we met on the first day of Selection, standing there buck naked in a gymnasium with a hundred other hopeful dickheads. We had been inseparable ever since.

And just like that, I was going off to war without him.

On the eve of my second major conflict, the realisation that I would probably never serve with these blokes again hit me. If things went well, I would most likely be integrated into 1 Squadron. And if they went badly, well, I was fucked.

I struggled to shake the thought as I showered alone in the large communal bathroom. Standing there in my steamy solitude, I let the hot water drum against the back of my neck for I don’t know how long. The fears and doubts continued their attack while I dried myself and ran a comb through my dark hair. But I managed to push them aside when I focussed on my reflection in the mirror above the row of sinks.

“Fucking Brill,” my voice echoed off the walls of the empty bathroom as I sneered at the angry purple bruise engulfing my left eye, and the fat lip that brushed painfully against my teeth.

I pulled on a black t-shirt and jeans, and cleaned everything out of my locker, loading my gear into two large backpacks and a dive bag. Shouldering the packs, I heaved them outside and loaded them into the back of my car. It would all get dumped into one of the 1 Squadron lockers when I returned to Barracks the next day.

Rolling out past the guard post, I turned right onto the West Coast Highway on my way home to Fremantle. The late afternoon sun warmed the side of my face on its agonisingly slow descent towards the Indian Ocean, while the other side throbbed painfully. The heat was starting to annoy me, as was the glare in the corner of my right eye. There was little respite from the sun visor, so I swung it back around to the windscreen with a sigh.

Briefly halted at a traffic light, I lost myself for a moment in the slow stalk of the shadows from the trees on the opposite side of the road. The next time the sun rose, I mused, the day would be longer than the night. But where I was going, it was the darkness that would prevail. The darkness we would bring.

Slowly crawling along the café strip at Freo a few minutes later, the chattering throng of Perth’s trendy latte set obliviously going about their lives fuelled my loneliness. As much as I despised them and their pretentious attitudes, I couldn’t help but envy the companionship they shared with each other in that moment. I had been cast adrift, separated from my mates who would now be preparing to assault an offshore container ship in yet another exercise. And Fang was down for the count, at home getting screamed stupid by his girlfriend for hurting himself playing army men.

I was on my own, and all the clichés of a soldier on his way to war flooded my mind as I parked around the corner and trudged up the stairs to my apartment. . With my face the way it was, I had no chance of picking anyone up at one of the nearby pubs. To say nothing of the fact I was hopeless at it. Even the slim pickings and alcohol impaired judgement of the 2am slut rush wasn’t promising, and not what I wanted for my last night in civilization.

Opting for the lesser of two evils, I stalked into the second bedroom that I used as a study and picked up the Yellow Pages. Flicking to E for escorts, I found the number for Langtrees and dialled. After I exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist, I asked, “Who have you got working tonight?”

A blonde twenty-eight year old named Donna sounded the most appealing by virtue of her age. The string of numbers and measurements meant nothing to me beyond declaring her not to be outside the realms of stereotypical beauty. She was on a job at the moment, the receptionist told me, but they could have her to my place in about an hour and a half. I agreed, immediately noticing the quickening of my heartbeat.

I flew into action, cleaning up my apartment. It was far from the typical bachelor-sty, but still, I wanted it to be in its best condition. I wiped down all the tables and benches, ran a vacuum over the beige carpet, and put a fresh set of white sheets on my bed. It was funny I thought, making an effort for a prostitute. But she was a woman nonetheless, and I wanted to impress her.

The phone rang while I was hanging up some clean towels in the bathroom. It was the receptionist from Langtrees, apologising profusely. Donna’s current client had apparently extended his time with her another hour. Rather than keep me waiting, she had decided to send Angelina instead. Sensing my hesitation, the receptionist assured me I wouldn’t be disappointed, before finally admitting she was already on the way.

My nervous anticipation had reached such a point, I didn’t really care. Instead, I was excited by the prospect of a nubile nineteen year old with “natural, DD” breasts. I was fifteen minutes away from sex with a beautiful woman. I finished getting ready, brushing my teeth and giving myself a quick squirt of Armani. Then I set up an observation post on the balcony, looking down at the street from where she would approach.

The last of the sun dipped behind the horizon, bathing the street in a gloomy, purple dusk. A small group of couples laughed loudly with each other as they made their way to the muffled din of the café strip around the corner, and a black Saab pulled into the underground garage of the building across the road. I watched the clattering metal roller door swallow up the car and cursed the excruciatingly slow passage of time.

It was the clip-clop of high heels on pavement that finally drew my attention to the street corner below. A voluptuous young brunette strode down the footpath on her way towards the entrance of my building, her enormous breasts bouncing seductively in her black midriff top. By the length of her miniskirt, or lack thereof, it had to be Angelina.

She stopped abruptly at the front door and stabbed her finger at the intercom. The aggressive buzzer screeching inside my apartment caused me to shoot up and lunge for the handset on the wall by the door. My blood pumped wildly as I let her in. I could feel the throbbing pulse in my lips and cheek while I waited for her to climb the two flights of stairs.

Watching through the peephole, Angelina bounded into view, dark and distorted by the fisheye lens. I went to open the door, but she was too quick, landing several knocks before I managed to twist the knob. I barely got the door ajar before she brushed past me into my living room.

“Um, hi,” I breathed. “How are you?”

“Fine thanks,” she mumbled, fishing around in her black leather handbag. “You’re paying by card?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I slipped the Gold Mastercard from my pocket and handed it over.

She didn’t look at me as she took it, instead focussing her attention on operating the portable EFTPOS machine, beeping away at the keypad. She brushed the ringlets of raven hair away from her heavily made up eyes, then swiped my card.

“I need your PIN.” She thrust the EFTPOS machine at me.

I took it and tapped in my code. I tried to make eye contact when I handed it back, but Angelina was avoiding my gaze, her head slightly tilted and the ends of her dark, curly hair tickling at the left shoulder of her black crop jacket. The EFTPOS machine spat out a receipt with a high-pitched, electric grind, and she tore it off and handed it over along with my credit card.

I checked that the total read $250 as I slipped both into my pocket. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks, I’m okay.” She looked down the hall. “That’s your bedroom?”

“Yeah, on the left.” I followed her, revelling in the spectacular curve of her ass in that black mini as she walked off.

Angelina peeled off her crop jacket as she marched into my bedroom, dropping it on the floor in the corner. Putting her handbag on the bedside table, she picked up the phone and announced, “I’ve just got to call the studio and let them know I’m here.”

I nodded, familiar with the procedure.

She turned her back to me as she spoke, and stepped down out of her stilettos, losing a couple of inches in height so she was a good head and shoulders shorter than me. Hanging up, she turned around and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, and staring at my chest, she wiggled it down over the delicious flare of her hips, revealing a skimpy pair of black panties. Angelina was stunning. Her creamy skin was flawless, and contrasted brilliantly with her dark features and the black singlet that struggled to contain her breasts.

“Mmm,” she purred when I peeled off my t-shirt, strutting over to me. She pressed her fingertips into my abs, pressing hard against the muscles as she drew her fingers down to my fly.

I sniffed at the frangipani scent of her hair as she undid my jeans. Angelina pulled them, along with my jocks, down my thighs, causing my cock to bounce free between us. She followed my pants to the floor, squatting in front of me. Rather clinically, she held my erect shaft with one hand while she inspected my balls with the other for any visible sign of sexually transmitted infection.

“You look fine,” she said matter of factly, rising to her feet.

“Yeah, I had a new one put in last week,” I smiled, but she didn’t care for my banter.

Angelina pushed me back onto the bed, and I scooted backwards as she crawled on top of me, until I was sitting up against the bedhead. Straddling my waist, my cock grinding into her panty-clad pussy, she crossed her arms and slipped her singlet off. I barely got a look at her amazing breasts before she grabbed my head and smothered me
between them.

The left side of my face throbbed with pain at the rough contact, and I struggled to breathe. I got my hands up to her soft globes, each full breast spilling out of my grasp. I tried to push her back slightly, so I could get control of her and maybe get one of the nipples that was flicking against my fingers into my mouth. But the bear hug she had on my skull was too tight, so all I could kiss was her sternum.

I was actually getting turned off by how sexually aggressive she was.

“Do you like my tits?” She released her grip on my head, allowing me to breathe. “They’re real, you know?”

“They’re beautiful,” I replied, trying to say the right thing regardless.

With the space I had, I started planting little kisses on her collar bone while I kneaded the soft flesh of her breasts, causing her nipples to harden beneath my caressing thumbs. I kissed my way up her neck, marvelling in the smooth tightness of her nineteen year old skin. A moan caught in the back of her throat as I flicked my tongue across the soft spot behind her ear.

I moved in to kiss her, but she turned her face away. When she brought it back, I tried again, but with the same result.

“You don’t kiss?” I whispered, receiving a shake of her head by way of reply. I tried to contain my sigh, but to no avail. Desperate to salvage the situation, I asked, “Can I go down on you?”

Angelina nodded, flicking her dark curls across my face. I tapped her thigh and leaned forward, forcing her to scramble backwards. She lay down on her back along the foot of the bed, and I crawled over the top of her.

I resumed my gentle kisses behind her ear, before making my way along her jawline, then down her throat. I was still amazed by how smooth her skin felt against my lips. My wonder continued as I climbed the soft peak of her right breast. I sucked her hard nub into my mouth, spiralling my tongue around the pucker of her areola, while I rolled her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Squeezing her breasts together, I took her other nipple into my mouth, gently chewing on both, before releasing the first to my pinching fingers. I suckled her proud point, softly biting down and flicking the end with my tongue. It seemed to do the trick, eliciting a long moan from her as she arched her back beneath me.

For the first time since I had gained control, I felt her encouragement as her hand caressed my back. I looked up at her, but her head was back, and her eyes closed. I snorted a laugh as she pushed down on my shoulders, directing me towards her pussy.


“You obviously want me to go somewhere?” I smiled.

Angelina ignored me, sinking back into the bed with a purr as I began my journey across her taut stomach. I ran my hands down her smooth curves ahead of my kisses, registering every tactile sensation, until I firmly held her hips. Taking in the sight, I then pressed my lips to her mound through her black, lace panties.

I dug my fingers in around the waistband of her underwear, and she lifted her ass off the bed to let me pull them down. When her fully shaven slit came into view, I flushed with warmth. No longer able to take my time, I yanked her panties down her long legs and threw them over my shoulder in a frenzy.

I grabbed her slender legs behind the knees and splayed them apart as I settled in a kneeling crouch between them. Angelina’s pussy was so unbelievably pretty. Her delicate, pink folds glistened with her arousal. I licked the length of her slit with the flat of my tongue, causing her to twitch. And I repeated the process over and over. 

Burrowing the tip of my tongue between her labia, I gouged up towards her clit. She gasped at the contact with her sensitive button, and I began to focus my attention there, flicking and swirling and sucking. Angelina bucked her hips underneath me, moaning loudly.

I slowly eased my finger inside her, but before I got to the first knuckle, she tightly gripped my wrist. I looked up at her, finally achieving eye contact for the first time since we had met.

“Don’t put your fingers in me.” Her tone was serious, without the slightest hint of arousal or shortness of breath.

I had no issue respecting her wishes, but I was starting to get annoyed. This wasn’t what I wanted.

But before I had time to talk myself out of anything, Angelina pulled my head back between her legs. Pussy’s pussy, I thought as I continued working her clit with my mouth. I kept my hands on her creamy inner thighs and ate her out for all I was worth. Eventually her moans reached a violent crescendo as her gyrating hips bucked in wild spasms.

I sat back on my heels, wondering if I had actually made her come, or she was just keeping to schedule. Regretting my decision to call Langtrees, I watched her crawl over to the bedside table to retrieve a condom from her handbag.

My father’s voice echoed in my ears: never pass a toilet; never trust a fart; and never waste an erection. Sound advice, I thought. And as long as I had paid for the hour, I might as well see this through.

Angelina’s ass was a perfect ripe peach bent over in front of me. I couldn’t help but reach out and grope her, squeezing the firm flesh of her left buttock. But she sidestepped on her knees out of my reach with a sigh, causing me to parrot her frustration. 

Then my uncle’s advice invaded my thoughts as I watched her struggle to get the condom on me. He had been in the Navy, and the mantra those blokes lived by seemed frightfully apt. On his first day in, he had been told to sleep with an Australian prostitute, so he knew what zero out of ten felt like. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I know,” Angelina chuckled. “I need the big ones.” She went back to her handbag for another condom, oblivious to what I was really thinking.

At least she was making the effort to flatter me. The standard ones fit just fine, I knew. The younger girls often played this game. As long as she didn’t drag it out to the point I lost my erection.

Thankfully she didn’t. Instead, she pinched the tip and rolled the condom down my shaft to the base, wanking me with her hand to spread the lube. Once I was suited up, Angelina lay back across the foot of the bed, pulling me between her legs and guiding the tip of my cock to her opening.

I wriggled my mushroom head past her pussy lips, then let my weight slowly sink my full length inside her. I could feel the warm pressure of her snatch around my cock, and her smooth thighs around my hips, but the “extra large” Can’t-Feel-Shits from Trojan were definitely taking the shine off. Pulling out an inch or two to check that it was at least staying in place, I began to slowly fuck her. Angelina groaned as I bottomed out at the end of each stroke, my balls adding the slapping percussion against her ass.

“Are you okay?” Despite everything, I still wanted to make sure she was all right.

“Uh-huh,” she grunted beneath me through closed eyes.

Angelina was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, let alone had sex with. However, the complete absence of any emotional connection with her whatsoever, and the desensitising effect of the condom kept me in a kind of sexual no man’s land. I fucked her non-stop for well over half an hour, according to the occasional glances at my alarm clock.

With our time together drawing to a close, I picked up my pace, slamming into her slippery cunt like an animal. The sweat was pouring off me, and Angelina’s heavy breasts jiggled frictionlessly between us. The slurping, slapping grunting mess of our sex assaulted my ears as I fucked her, until finally, I felt that familiar tingle that signalled my release.

“I’m going to come!” I groaned.

Angelina gave no reply, instead just holding herself in place with her arms and legs wrapped around me.

My orgasm was unremarkable, gently easing over me like a warm, wet blanket. I barely felt the cum oozing from my cock into the condom.

They can’t all be mind-blowing, I thought, as I lay spent on top of her. When I regained my breath, I reached between us to grab the base of the condom, making sure it didn’t come off inside her when I slipped out.

“Can I have a shower?” Angelina broke the silence as soon as I rolled off her.

I held out my hand, helping her up off the bed, and led her into the ensuite. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, and her smeared makeup and dark ringlets of hair plastered to her forehead only made her look more so. But after I pointed out the fresh towels and toiletries, she shut the door on me, denying me the chance to watch her while she

I pulled on my jeans and sat on the bed while I waited for her. “What the fuck am I doing?” I sighed to myself. This wasn’t the life affirming experience I was hoping for. But more often than not, it wasn’t, I chided myself. I knew that.

Angelina came out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel. Her raven hair was returned to its former glory and her makeup had been reapplied. She found her panties over by the wardrobe, and slipped them on underneath the towel. Then turning her back to me, she dropped the towel and put her black singlet back on.

“This isn’t all I do, you know?” She turned around to face me, stepping into her skirt and shimmying it up her shapely legs. “I’m just doing this while I’m studying. I actually go to Murdoch University.”

“What do you study?” I smiled, feeling bad for her that she felt it necessary to justify herself. I can’t remember what her answer was. And it honestly doesn’t matter. What does, is that I felt all the more alone for having spent time with her.

The phone rang as she shrugged on her crop jacket. It was Langtrees calling to let us know that my time was up, and to see if I wanted to extend. Angelina took the handset and confirmed that she was all right, and that there would be no extension.

“The driver’s downstairs,” she announced, returning the handset to its cradle. She stepped up into her heels and strode out into the living area.

I followed, unable to resist glancing down at her perfect ass as she walked to the front door. “Thank you,” I said as she pulled it open.

Angelina turned on the landing to face me as I stood at the threshold, still without my shirt. She was an expert at avoiding eye contact, but she managed a tight smile and a half-assed wave before she bounced off down the stairs.

I let the door swing shut, then allowed my forehead to fall against the wood. After a minute or two, I spun around and rested with my back to the door, before slowly sliding to the floor and hugging my knees.

I just wanted someone to hold. Someone to hold me. Instead, I ended up fucking an insecure, nineteen year old prostitute. 

“Fucking good one!” I threw my head back, banging it painfully into the door. “Ahh! Motherfucker!”

My grumbling stomach finally shook me loose from my self-pity. I got up from the floor, threw on my black t-shirt and a pair of boots, and wandered over to Cicerello’s for some fish and chips. The place was heaving, as usual. There was no trouble finding a seat though, given nobody wanted to sit next to the tall, sweaty, bruised up thug in black. But the self-proclaimed world’s finest went down nicely with a couple of beers.

Back at my place, I tried to distract myself by watching some cheesy sitcoms I had taped earlier during the week. And for the most part, it worked. But when the shows ended, I was back at square one, overcome with loneliness.

“Don’t do it,” I sighed to no one.

But it was hopeless. Of course I was going to do it.

“Hello. Langtrees. How can we help you?”

When I hung up, Donna was thirty minutes away. Once again that night, I was a study of frenetic, domestic activity. I removed the doona cover, still wet with sweat and pussy. By the earthiness of the aroma, it seemed that Angelina had at least enjoyed herself. The new one went on easily enough, and I smoothed down the thick stripes of navy blue and white, giving my bedroom a somewhat beachy vibe. 

I scrubbed hard at myself with the sea sponge, desperate to get every last trace of Angelina off me. I was almost rabbit-punching at my face with my toothbrush, ignoring the pain of my lip while scouring every nook and cranny of my mouth. My dark hair shone in the mirror, and another misting of Armani finished the job. With the towels replaced, I threw on a black button-up shirt and rolled the sleeves to just below my elbows.

The intercom buzzed twice out in the living room before I had finished getting dressed. I snatched up a pair of tan cargos and skipped out to answer it.

“Hey, it’s Donna,” she sang when I answered.

“Hey,” I smiled back, already hopeful from the friendly tone of her voice. “Come on up, top floor.”

I clumsily hopped into my pants and wrestled to get the button through the hole. Holding the door open, I stepped out onto the landing and looked down at the other one half a flight below me. The worn charcoal carpet was starkly illuminated by the overhead fluorescent lighting in the stairwell. 

The beat of Donna’s footsteps changed as she climbed the stairs from the level below. Her scruffy, bleach-blonde mop came into view first, hanging just above her bare shoulders. As more of her rose above the banister, I could see she was poured into a white, strapless evening gown. As she turned on the landing below me, her tanned, slender leg protruded from the split in her dress that ran halfway up her thigh.

“Hey,” she beamed up at me, her big, blue eyes twinkling. She stopped a moment, framed by the full length window behind her and the contrasting darkness of night it held back. She tilted her head, and her lips pressed together in a crooked smile. “Your fly’s undone.”

I closed my eyes against the burn in my cheeks and sighed. Leaning back against the spring loaded door, I quickly zipped up under the sound of Donna’s approaching giggle.

“Smooth,” she grinned on her arrival to the top of the stairs. She floated over to me with her hand extended. “I’m Donna. It’s lovely to meet you.”

I introduced myself as I took her hand. She sandwiched mine between hers and used me as a lever to pull herself in, craning up and planting a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. Her pink lips spread into a warm smile beneath those sparkling, blue eyes.

Then her brow furrowed as she sucked air in through puckered lips. “Ooo, what happened?” She very gently put her hand up to the side of my face and gingerly traced my swollen cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Then trailing down, she lightly caressed my bottom lip with her index and middle fingers.

“Tough day at the office,” I breathed as I ushered Donna inside my apartment. I was impressed. She had only known me thirty seconds, and she had already shown me more attention than Angelina had in an entire hour.

“What do you do?” she frowned, concerned.

“I’m in the Army.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately softened and her smile returned. She was obviously satisfied I wasn’t some dangerous thug.

When I offered her a drink, she opted for a beer, and called back to base while I poured out a couple of glasses.

With the clock started, she took one of the beers from me and held it up. “To new friends.”

“To new friends,” I smiled back at her, clinking my glass against hers.

We held each other’s gaze as we drank. When I lowered my glass, Donna wrinkled her nose. Placing her drink on the kitchen bench, she stepped over, pressing her lithe form against me, then wiped the foam from my top lip with her finger. I was transfixed as she seductively sucked her finger into her mouth, then licked her lips.

I nearly dropped my beer.

Her eyes twinkled and her smile turned playful. She reached up again, this time touching her finger underneath my chin and pushing my mouth closed, making us both laugh.

“Would you like to get everything sorted out so we can relax and get to know each other?”

“Great idea,” I smiled, reaching into my pocket for my Mastercard. Then I realised it was still in my jeans in the dirty clothes basket. Blushing, I bounded down the hall to retrieve it. When I returned, I saw that Donna was holding a flimsy carbon copy slip, the kind used in old fashioned imprint machines. “No EFTPOS?”

“I’m old school,” she smiled. “I’m really sorry, but do you have a pen?” She picked up her beer and followed me down to the study.

I grabbed a pen from the desk and turned to see her surveying the group of three framed photos on the opposite wall. The one on the left was an overhead shot of my patrol in a rigid-hulled inflatable boat, pulling alongside a submarine. The middle frame was a patrol photo from East Timor, with the six of us in khaki camouflage and weapons, posing in front of a Blackhawk helicopter. And the last one was Fang and I in our black fire suits on top of the Olympic stadium a few hours before the Opening Ceremony, and my moment of truth.

Donna touched my face in each of the framed pictures, making a cute, humming sound each time her finger made contact with the glass. Then the black granite bust of Plato wearing my sandy beret in the corner caught her attention. She ran her fingers over the chiselled features of his face, then looked at me over her naked shoulder, her expression serious. “You’re in the Special Air Service?”

I nodded. I was actually part of 152 Signals Squadron, which was permanently seconded to the Regiment. But I was beret-qualified and fully integrated into the patrols, so for all intents and purposes.

“It’s so horrible what happened last week, in New York…the World Trade Center.” She searched my face for several, long seconds. “They’re saying on the TV that the Americans are going to Afghanistan. And the Prime Minister wants us to go too.”

I gave her my best thousand yard stare. Obviously I couldn’t tell her anything. But the Prime Minister had been in Washington DC when it had happened, and it was no secret he wanted in. It’s just that eleven days on, the deal hadn’t quite been done yet.

She touched my forearm, then whispered, “When do you go?”

“Tomorrow,” I whispered back. Fuck it. I needed a new poker face anyway.

Donna’s shoulders slumped as she let the softest whine escape her lips. She squeezed my arm. And her big blue eyes stared up at me, into me.

“You’re really wearing that dress.” My voice caught slightly.

She kept her eyes locked on mine a few seconds longer. Then the twinkle returned as she let me change the subject. The corners of her lips turning up. “You like it?” She stepped back and gave me a twirl. Then giggling, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Taking the pen, she glided around the desk and sat down. She watched me as I sat across from her. Placing my credit card on the blotter, she carefully lay the carbon copy slip over it, then rapidly rubbed the shaft of the pen across the raised numbers of the card.

“Nice,” I laughed.

She laughed back, and we chatted about EFTPOS machines and how coveted they were by the other girls at the brothel. Then Donna cocked her head and asked me about Angelina.

“Angelina,” I mocked, holding up my fingers in air quotes. “She’s…nineteen.”

Donna snorted a laugh, knowing exactly what I meant. “My name’s actually Donna. No, really,” she protested with a smile in response to my raised eyebrow. “Doing this job, I find it easier if I’m…me. I don’t like the way it feels, you know, being somebody else.” 

“Yeah,” I breathed, reaching over the desk and taking her hand.

“So what were you doing before I got here?” She returned her attention to the carbon copy.

“I was just watching Friends. I taped it on Monday.”

“Oh, I missed it.” She looked up at me with excitement. “What happened?”

“It was a good one,” I laughed, telling her about the episode. “Monica’s cousin came to stay with her. It was Denise Richards. Chandler kept staring at her, with a Barry White song playing in his head. You know, the slow motion hair thing?” I acted out the action, loving the way Donna was hanging on every word.

“So Monica sends her over to stay with Ross. And he’s on the couch with her, talking himself into making a move, until finally, he just pounces on her!”

“Oh my God! Isn’t she his cousin too?” Donna laughed.

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “When she asks him what he was doing, he’s just staring at her, thinking, ‘say something, anything.’ And then, ‘Oh my God. This is the longest anyone has not said something ever.’” Donna laughed along with my animated explanation. “Then he finally says, ‘I haven’t had sex in a really long time.’”

“Oh, no!”

“I know, right? Then he thinks to himself again, ‘yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said anything.’”

Donna grinned at me warmly, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. Then finished filling out the carbon copy, she slid it across for me to sign. She peeled it apart, handing me my copy and throwing the carbon into the bin under the desk.

“Come on.” She held out her hand as she rose to her feet.

Taking my hand in hers, she led me into my bedroom, bringing my hand to the small of her back as she went. Once inside, she turned, taking the last few steps backwards as she looked up at me. Donna took my other hand, holding them both in hers between us.

Then she craned up, planting her warm lips softly against mine. It was such a sweet kiss. She pulled away briefly, then sank back in. The tip of her tongue flicked along my top lip, before finding its way past my teeth.

I sucked gently at Donna’s tongue, cradling the underside of it with my own. It was such a wonderfully warm, wet kiss. Then I chased her tongue back into her mouth, allowing her to suck mine. It took every last ounce of will power not to paw at her breasts while we kissed, but there was something so much more tender about holding each other’s hands. I dared not let go.

When Donna pulled back, she tilted her head and licked the excess saliva from her lips as her smile spread. “Do you want to help me out of my dress?” She bit her lip and turned her back to me.

I held her narrow shoulders, reflexively kneading her muscles. Her soft moans were music to my ears. But still, as beautiful as she was in that white dress, I had to get it off her. Undoing the hook between her shoulder blades, I got hold of the zip and pulled it slowly down to the base of her spine, exposing a sharp triangle of tanned flesh as I went.

She turned, holding the front of her dress to her chest. Then with a smile, she lowered her hands, revealing her beautiful teardrop handfuls. Her nipples tightened into gorgeous, pointed nubs. Donna allowed me to bask in the vision a moment before slipping the white material past the flare of her hips, letting the dress splash to the carpet. The only thing she was wearing, was a tiny pair of white, satin panties.

She watched me closely, studying my reaction. Donna stepped forward, taking my face in her hands, and kissed me again. Her hands slid down, unfastening the buttons on my shirt. When she got the last one undone, she brushed it off my shoulders and ran her palms down my sides until her fingers were hooked into my pants.

My hands shadowed hers, caressing down her naked back. When I reached the waistband of her G-string, I burrowed my fingers beneath the elastic and found the soft flesh of her ass. I swallowed her moans into my mouth, and brought my hands around to her hips, pushing her panties past her curves.

She had my cargos undone and was slowly wanking my cock in my boxers. “I want you to give me a massage,” she purred.

She handed me a bottle of moisturiser from her handbag and pulled her panties off the rest of the way. Throwing back the striped doona, she lay down on the crisp, white sheets on her tummy. “Come on. I was sunbaking today, and I really need the moisturiser.”

Shoving my pants down my legs, I straddled Donna’s thighs and squeezed a big squirt of lotion onto her back, causing her to gasp from the cold. I chuckled to myself as I rubbed my hands across her slender back.

“Do you like my tattoo?” she moaned.

“I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m staring at your ass right now. I haven’t even noticed it.”

Donna slapped my thigh with a giggle, then pointed to the freshly inked whale’s tail on the small of her back. “Right there.”

“Yeah, I’m still staring at your ass,” I laughed.

With a fresh application of moisturiser, I began working her hips and ass, perhaps a little more than I needed to. But I suppose that was the point. My fingers made shiny depressions in her lubricated flesh. Her skin was beautifully soft, I thought, but nowhere near as taut as Angelina’s, some ten years her junior. But Donna’s tan was much nicer, contrasting boldly with the white sheets upon which she lay.

“Mmm, you were at Swanbourne today?” I smiled.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

I planted a kiss on her ass. “You don’t have any tan lines.” The nude beach just outside the Barracks was a constant source of amusement among the blokes.

The massage moved to her front as Donna rolled over onto her back. I must have used every last drop of lotion in the bottle, and caressed every last millimetre of her body. My mouth soon followed my hands, kissing my way from her lips, down to her breasts, before finally plunging my tongue deep into her sodden pussy.

With her soft thighs over my shoulders, I hungrily devoured her plump labia, protruding from beneath her dark blonde muff. I enjoyed her taste, much more pungent than Angelina. And I loved that she let me stir her creamy depths with my fingers as I worked her clit with my tongue.

Donna moaned loudly, rolling her hips up to meet my lips and probing fingers. She ran her fingers through my hair, holding my head tightly to her sex. She was close, twitching and bucking as she tried to hold back the tide. Until she couldn’t anymore, finding her release with a deep, guttural groan.

I felt a flood of wetness with Donna’s orgasm. A fast trickle of her fluid spilled from her vagina, dribbling down my hand and into the crack of her ass. I had to taste it, lapping at her opening and revelling in the tangy earthiness of her sex.

“Are you okay?” I looked into her blurry eyes when I’d had my fill.

“Yes,” she breathed, pulling me up by the face to kiss me. “I can taste my pussy on your lips.”

Still kissing me, Donna plucked a condom from her handbag and sat up with me kneeling between her legs. She got it on me with frightening efficiency, never once taking her mouth from mine. Then she lay back down, holding my gaze and offering herself to me.

I pressed the covered head of my cock to her entrance, rubbing it up and down her slit. But once again, the desensitising effect of the condom took its toll. I actually started to soften, completely incongruous with how much I wanted her at that moment. It was futile trying to feed my failing member into her. And of course, the more I tried to fight it, the worse it became.

“Oh fuck,” I sighed, throwing my head back, defeated.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Donna sat up, stroking my face. “You’ve got a lot going on. Just relax.” She kissed me, then propped herself up onto my lap before pushing me backwards.

I collapsed back onto the bed, my head falling over the edge. Feeling Donna’s nimble fingers peeling off the condom, I lifted my head in time to see her take my semierect penis into her mouth. The wet warmth of her mouth immediately revived my flagging cock. My eyes were locked with hers as she bobbed up and down on me.

Donna’s pretty pink lips slid along my shaft, leaving a glistening sheen of her saliva in the muted light of the bedside lamp. She swirled her tongue around my swollen head on the upstroke, then effortlessly took me all the way into her throat on the down.

I laid my hand on hers, resting on the crease where the top of my thigh met my waist. “Oh Donna,” I gasped. “I’m going to come.”

Her eyes twinkled at the news. She kept my cock in her mouth, sucking hard on the head and swirling her tongue while she pumped my shaft with her other hand. The tempo of her breathing increased as she blew me. Her cute, little moans and grunts became louder. She obviously wanted me to come in her mouth.

The realisation shoved me over the edge. I was swept away by the immense tingle that gushed out of my cock in thick, heaving spasms. My head lolled back over the edge of the bed and I began to lose my vision, unable to lock my focus on anything on the empty ceiling above.

Donna gulped down my cum with each spurt, furiously jacking my shaft until my orgasm subsided. She released my cock, kissing the purple head and licking up the last drops of semen that oozed from the tip. Then holding me at the base, she proceeded to lick the full length of my hardness like an ice cream cone, the pink of her lips curled up in
a devilish smile.

“Oh my God, I love your abs,” she mumbled, kissing her way up my stomach and feeling every firm contour with her hands.

I snorted a laugh. “I actually used to be fat before I joined the Army.”

“Obviously nothing a million sit-ups can’t fix,” she joked.

“It’s actually closer to four hundred thousand.” There’s a lot of time to think, nestled in behind the scope of a sniper rifle.

Donna stopped kissing my stomach. Tucking wayward strands of her peroxide bob behind her ear, she looked quizzically into my eyes.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

Donna huffed a laugh, then resumed enjoying my torso with her mouth. She sent electric jolts through my nipples on her way up my body. Her wet folds were leaving a cool, slick trail on my thighs and stomach as she dragged herself up my body. The sound of her snuffling at my ear tickled, until she took the lobe into her warm mouth.
I don’t know how long we kissed, facing the wrong way on the bed with her on top of me. It felt like forever, but nowhere near long enough. Her soft breasts flattened against my chest, the hard, little nubs poking me. My hands slowly glided back and forth between the firm muscles in her back and the softness of her ass. Incredibly, I became hard again.

I rolled over on top of her and felt her hand wrap around my shaft. Donna rubbed the wet petals of her slit with the head of my cock, then pulled me towards her. I resisted, conscious I wasn’t wearing a condom.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m clean. I get tested every month.”

My entire body flushed with warmth, causing my cheek and lip to throb once more. Never in my life had I had such an offer.

“I want to feel you,” Donna said gently, looking deep into my eyes. “I want you to feel me.”

Fuck it, I thought. I released the brake and sank into her in one, long, slow movement. I was home. What struck me most, above the brilliant warmth and tight grip of her pussy, was how wet she felt. I could feel every last soaking sensation.

When we weren’t noisily kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths, we stared into each other’s eyes as I gently rocked in and out of her. She held me close, her hands sliding across my back. Donna rolled her hips to meet every thrust, taking as much of me as she could inside her. Her moans grew louder, and quickened with my pace.

I felt her heels lock over my ass as I pumped her molten core. The sensation of my pubic bone grinding into her clit sent her over the edge, and her eyes glazed over as she gripped me in a tight, squealing spasm. I kissed her deeply, lost in the slippery squelching of our sex.

“Come for me,” she gasped into my mouth.

I opened my eyes while still kissing her. Hers were open, big and bright, watching me. The closeness, the connection I felt with her, tipped me over the edge. I cried out, trying to hold it back. Wanting to prolong every last nanosecond.

“I want you to come inside me.”

I was gone. Roaring with ecstasy, I exploded deep inside Donna’s pussy, flooding her unprotected womb with my spunk. When the paralysing jolts eventually released me, I collapsed on top of her, melting into her soft, sweaty form.

“Are you all right?” I breathed into her cheek, clumsily kissing at her face.

“Mmm…oh, yes.” Her ankles unlocked, allowing her knees to slide down and hook over my thighs. “How do you feel?”

”Perfect.” I kissed her warmly, feeling myself slip from between her legs.

As I rolled off her, Donna clung to me, nestling into the crook of my armpit, with her head on my chest. She threw her leg over me, pressing her cum-slicked lips to my thigh. Her fingers explored my chest, tracing little circles and tugging playfully at the dark hairs.

I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the peach and coconut scent of her shampoo. I brushed her soft hair with my fingertips. Holding her other hand, our fingers interlocked on my chest, and I felt her snuggle in a little tighter. I was in heaven.

Too soon, the trill ring of the phone ripped me from my bliss, announcing the end of the hour. I think it quite honestly broke my heart a little. Somehow releasing Donna, I sat up, kicking my feet off the bed, and answered it.

“Can you please hang on a second?” I said to the Langtrees receptionist after we had chatted a minute. I turned to Donna, who was lying back on one elbow watching me. “Would you like to stay the rest of the night?”

Donna’s beautiful blue eyes burst to life, and she nodded a big smile, before biting her bottom lip.

It was fifteen hundred dollars to keep her until morning, and I was only too happy to pay it. Hell, I would have paid ten times that. We got all the arrangements for the extension sorted out quite quickly, with Donna doing another stone rubbing of my credit card onto a spare carbon copy slip. I enjoyed the jiggle of her breasts as she did it, and the hardening of her nipples as she caught me perving.

“Do you want something to drink?” I blushed, trying to redirect her scornful, but amused gaze.

She followed me out to the kitchen for a cold beer, casually drinking it from the bottle. We stood there, naked, drinking, and staring at each other. Her inner thighs were shiny with my smeared cum, but she was hardly leaking everywhere. Still, she blushed under my inspection, and self-consciously closed the distance between us and threw her arms around my shoulders to avoid my scrutiny.

As we kissed, I held my cold bottle away from her skin, caressing her with only one hand. She wasn’t as successful, with the cold glass of hers raising goose bumps all over my body when it made contact with my shoulder blade. While I didn’t flinch, she noticed. And with an impish grin, she touched the freezing bottle to my back again.

I gave her no reaction whatsoever. A cold beer bottle was no match for five years of special forces training, especially when I was expecting it. Enjoying her disappointed pout as long as I dared, I tipped my own bottle up, pouring a long, icy trickle between her shoulders.

Donna squealed, her whole body tensing at the shock of the beer running down her naked back. Her nipples hardened against my chest, and she released a long, moaning sigh. When she opened her eyes, her bright blue orbs pleaded with me to continue the tease.

Taking her wrist and leading her back into the bedroom, I relieved her of her bottle and bent her over the bed until she was propping herself up on the mattress. With my heart thundering, I poured another long stream of icy cold beer between her shoulder blades. It foamed into a thick white stripe down the centre of her back, before dipping into the crack of her gorgeous ass. I was possessed. And without thinking, I dove between her cheeks.

I lapped at her bubbling cunt, tasting the rich flavour of our sex breaking through the bitterness of the beer. Following the foaming trail, I worked my way up her smooth perineum until I was licking at the perfect, puckered knot of her asshole. It was just so wonderfully dirty.

Digging my fingers into Donna’s hips, I forced my way past the tight muscles of her star until I was fucking her ass with my tongue. It honestly wasn’t the nicest thing I’d ever tasted, but I reasoned that I’d eaten much worse on the Lucky Dip during Selection. Besides, there was something so incredibly intimate about licking this woman’s asshole. It was almost primal, like the way dogs sniff at each other.

My cock was raging, and I shoved it into her battered cunt, pounding into her like an animal. She grunted with every thrust, crawling up onto the bed until she was on all fours. Following her, I dug my thumb into her ass as I fucked her, causing her to squeal. Then pulling myself from her holes, I positioned my mushroom head at her greedy anus. She looked over her shoulder at me and our eyes met. Then I flushed again as she pushed her hips back against me.

Donna’s sphincter was a tight ring, slowly rolling up and down the full length of my shaft as I fucked her ass with every inch I had. My knuckles were white, digging into the soft, tanned flesh of her hips. I took my time with every stroke, driving into her with slow, deliberate force.

“Fuck me!” she demanded through gritted teeth. “Fuck my dirty, little ass!”

“Yeah? You want it?” I didn’t know who the fuck I was.

“Oh, yeah, I want it,” she moaned, bouncing off my hips with a slap. “Fill me with that cock. I want it so fuckin’ bad.”

I groaned incoherently with my release, spraying her bowels with what was left of my semen. My cock pulsed with every agonising spasm deep in Donna’s ass. I was dizzy, almost hyperventilating as my chest heaved with exhaustion. Still, I just couldn’t’ stop grinding myself into her core.

We collapsed down onto the bed together, both of us laughing as we fought to catch our breath.

“Oh my God. That was so dirty.” She beamed.

“Mmm. Very hot,” I agreed, rubbing her soft belly, then finding the coarse thatch between her legs

“I’ve never had anyone come in my ass before. That felt amazing.”

I sucked her earlobe into my mouth, then whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she giggled, kissing me softly.

Freshly showered and snuggled up under the doona together, we lay in each other’s arms, kissing and chatting. The warmth from her skin against mine was magical. So too was the conversation, sharing stories from our childhoods, and how we’d both come to settle in Western Australia. We talked for hours, until eventually, I must have fallen asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was woken by my alarm clock blasting Janie’s Got a Gun. I felt the soft, pillow of Donna’s breasts against the side of my face, and her smooth skin beneath my fingers. I moved my hand down across her stomach, brushing over her bellybutton piercing.

“Hey,” I whined, still bleary eyed. “I told you not to let me fall asleep.” I twisted around and hit the snooze button.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You just looked so…mmm…peaceful. How much time do we have?”

It was eight o’clock. The answer was none.

I got up, mumbling profanities, and staggered into the bathroom. It wasn’t until I got the water running, that I decided to forgo the shower. I was going to spend fifteen hours sweating like a pig in the back of a Hercules on the way to some third world shithole, so what the hell? I turned off the water and back into my bedroom.

“Forget something, soldier?” Donna cooed from the bed with her blue eyes sparkling.

We made love one more time. Stripes of morning sunlight streamed in through the venetian blinds and fell across us as I tenderly ground myself into Donna. We kissed, enhancing our connection, until finally, painfully, I came inside her.

The phone rang. It was fucking Langtrees. The driver was downstairs waiting for Donna. Just like waking from a wonderful wet dream, it was over.

I threw on my cargos, this time remembering to do up the fly, and shrugged into my black shirt that was still on the floor where Donna had left it the previous night.

Donna carefully step into her white satin G-string, pulling it up her slender legs. As soon as she had it in place, the cum leaking from her pussy dampened the crotch, causing her to gasp.

I couldn’t help but grin.

She wrinkled her nose at me, giving me a crooked smile. “You’re incorrigible."

“And you’re incredible,” I breathed, reaching my hand down into her panties and running my fingers through her slick folds as I kissed her. I touched my fingers to her lips, and she sucked them clean, then kissed me. I could taste our sex on her lips.

I retrieved her dress from the carpet and handed it over. She stepped into it and wiggled it up over her hips, watching me ogle her every step of the way. Then at last, when she had her beautiful breasts covered, she turned, silently asking me to help her zip up. Her sexy whale’s tail tramp stamp disappeared behind the curtain of white material as I finally sealed her back inside that amazing gown.

Checking I had everything, I locked up my apartment and walked her downstairs. We held hands on the way down, exchanging glances as we arrived at each landing. Then at street level, I walked outside with her into the sunlight.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered. “For sharing yourself with me. I can’t even tell you how much it means to me.”

Her big, blue eyes brimmed, and she touched the side of my face.“Please be careful.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and kissed her. The curve of her hips, the feeling of her scruffy blonde hair, the soft swell of her breasts against my chest. And the twinkle in her eye and that cheeky smile as she ran her hands down over my stomach.

I wanted to say it. Desperately. But right then, it was enough that I felt it.

I traced my fingertips down the soft skin of her arms, holding her fingers an endless moment, before letting go as I went back inside. Reaching the stairs that led down to the parking garage under the building, I looked back.

Donna stood outside the glass door, looking back inside at me and hugging herself tightly. She almost glowed in the sunlight that reflected off her bottle blonde mop and that spectacular white dress. I smiled at her, our eyes connecting one last time. Then I turned downstairs, into the darkness.


Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it. Please vote and leave a comment.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright © William Hawke at the date of publication above. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the express written consent of the author. Steal my shit, and I'll cut you.

To link to this sex story from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="">Warning Order</a>

Comments (13)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.